


Little Pistol

by littlefirewriting



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefirewriting/pseuds/littlefirewriting
Summary: i thought i saw the devil, this morning.





	Little Pistol

Through frosted glass, the Devil smiles at you.

His movements are like liquid, despite the air around him being frigid enough to seep into your skin. The flush of life drains from your cheeks, flesh pale as the dead as you smile back. Muscle after muscle, your lips twist of their own volition, and the Devil seems delighted. His hand presses to the glass at the same time yours does, each gloved fingertip slowly bearing down on the thin layer as if they were merging. 

Maybe they were. His fingers arch as if to claw down the surface, and you find yourself staring back to his face. This time, it is yours. 

The same layers that frame your face are reflected back at you, accompanied by wide lash-framed eyes. The gloves hands begin to move again, caressing down the image of yourself, claws and all. Scratches against the ice begin to form, over your eyes-

Pools of blood, almost, but just a bit too human. You blink, and the image changes.

The man you love stands on the other side now, terror written in the margin of his face. It's wrong, it's unnatural, the way that his face contorts into something you'd never thought possible. 

Something so intensely emotional. His lips move, mouthing words that don't quite reach you. He continues to speak, and you continue to stare.

The glass cracks with each word until he's falling forward, into your hands. Black gloves on black coat, skirting up to eventually cup his cheeks. He leans into the attention, face still cast down until you let go.

Your gloves pull away red, or rather your hands, covered in blood. The man you love is dead in your lap. The air becomes frigid again.

The Devil is back, standing over the body of your lover, assuming your features once again. A gun manifests in his hand.

Panic spurs in your throat, sealing it shut as you attempt to protest. Nothing comes out, the safety is off, your - HIS - finger is on the trigger, the barrel rests against your own forehead,

Then there's warmth. 

You wake up, sweaty and trapped under sheets that aren't yours. 

Akira lies beside the Devil--yourself, stirring slightly as he's woken up. He turns over, concern blatant in his features, wiping away a tear you didn't know was there.

"Goro?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is really funky but I wanted to mess with nightmare concepts and POV, as well as how Goro might view himself post game.


End file.
